


Maybe I Did Not Survive Him

by theorangewitch



Series: Angstober [18]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Graphic description of someone burning to death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 06:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16383356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theorangewitch/pseuds/theorangewitch
Summary: Aoife’s grip tightened around Raven’s arm. “You may be able to lie to Dad, to the Academy, to everyone else, but I am your twin sister and you cannot lie to me.” A flicker of pain cast over her face. “I don’t know what it is you intend to do by coming here, but an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.”Raven wrenched her arm from her sister’s grasp. “Then let me be blind,” she said before storming off down the hall.





	Maybe I Did Not Survive Him

**Author's Note:**

> Angstober Day 22 - Eye for an Eye. If you want to read the beginning of Raven’s story, go back to Day 16 - Helplessness. It’ll give some good perspective on the decisions she makes in this piece. 
> 
> If you want the full list of Angstober prompts, it’s in the author’s note of the first work in this series.

Aoife’s hand shot out and wrapped around Raven’s arm. “What are you planning?” she asked, fire in her green eyes.

“Aren’t you happy to see me, Eef?” Raven asked, her gaze cold on her sister’s face.

“Of course I am. Had I not contacted the Academy I’d have thought you were dead. But I know you’re planning something.”

“I’m not,” Raven said, trying to keep her expression innocent.

Aoife’s grip tightened around Raven’s arm. “You may be able to lie to Dad, to the Academy, to everyone else, but I am your twin sister and you  _ cannot  _ lie to me.” A flicker of pain cast over her face. “I don’t know what it is you intend to do by coming here, but an eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.”

Raven wrenched her arm from her sister’s grasp. “Then let me be blind,” she said before storming off down the hall. 

Braden Shanahan stood in the practice room with as much poise and power as ever. Maybe more. He’d aged gracefully, his brilliant red hair faded to a dignified orange tinged with gray, and his stoic face drawn with lines of experience. “Raven,” he said as she entered. “Welcome home.”

If she was anyone else, she would have thought he meant it. Her father had that kind of power over people: convincing them that he always, always meant well. “Father,” she said, locking their gazes together. When she was young she was rarely able to meet his eyes. But she had power now. She had strength of will. 

“I was very intrigued by your letter,” Braden continued. “I must admit that after all these years I didn’t expect your magical talent to reveal itself now.”

“It wasn’t talent, Father,” Raven stated. “It was hard work, simple as that.” She heard the door to the practice room creak open as Aoife entered without saying a word. “I came home so that I could show you the fruits of my labor.”

“Interesting.” Braden said. “See, I didn’t expect to ever hear from you again.”

“I only ever wanted to please you, Father. I was giving myself time to figure out a way to do that.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Aoife wince. 

“And how do you intend to display your newfound prowess to me?”

Raven smiled. “I had something in mind. You know how you used to have Aoife and I spar?”

“Raven, I won’t fight you,” Aoife interrupted.

Raven laughed. “I don’t want to fight  _ you _ , Aoife. I don’t actually think I could beat you, even with all of my intense study. I want to fight Father.” 

Braden furrowed his brow at the underhanded jab. Raven hoped that meant that he would rise to the bait. “And what better venue than this, the room where all of my old duels with Aoife took place?” 

“Very well,” Braden said. “Very well indeed.”

“Let’s have dinner first,” Aoife blurted, appearing beside Raven and grabbing her shoulder. “No magic on an empty stomach.”

Braden nodded. “Of course.” Then he swept out of the room.

Aoife whirled Raven around to face her. “You don’t have magic,” she accused.

“I do,” Raven retorted.

“Where did you get it?”

“Through my own ingenuity,” she snapped. “You’re belittling me, Eef.  _ Again _ .”

“I’m not—“

“You  _ are.  _ Just like you always have. I have magic, and I’m going to win this duel.”

Aoife sighed, her eyebrows knitting together. “If you win this duel, will you be a part of this family?”

“Aoife, I have never been a part of this family, and I never will be until you both are dead and in the ground and I am in a family of one.”

“You always say the most awful things.” Aoife’s voice cracked as she spoke. She always cried easily. Raven had learned from a young age that crying only made things worse. 

Raven glanced obviously over towards the door through which Braden exited towards the dining room. “I learned from the best.” 

Dinner was an awkward affair. Braden attempted to make polite conversation with Aoife and Raven, while Aoife shot furtive glances at her sister across the table. Raven responded to her father’s questions with as few words as possible, while Aoife barely responded at all. 

And then it was time for the duel. Raven faces her father in the practice room, standing in the same spot where she’d faced her sister time and time again. But this time, instead of standing on the sidelines, egging his daughters on into seriously injuring one another, Braden Shanahan was in the thick of it. 

Raven would make him atone. She would make him  _ pay _ . 

Braden spread open his hands, setting them alight.  _ Fire. Shanahans are so predictable,  _ Raven thought. The  _ firebolt  _ whizzed past her shoulder, sending a wave of recollective pain through her skin where her burns wrapped around her arms and torso. And then she stormed towards him. She grabbed him by the wrist and pressed his hand down on his face. 

When she was a child, he would hold her hand over a candle. Not enough to burn—the burning came later, and it was always by Aoife’s hand—but enough to hurt. He would hold her there as she begged and pleaded and he would say, “You can control this. You can put the fire out.” But she couldn’t. Not then. 

But she could now. Braden screamed as he was burned by his own magic. She saw the fear in his eyes, but not just the fear, the shock. What she was doing to him, turning his own magic against him, shouldn’t be possible. A caster couldn’t be hurt by their own spells. But he was. She had wrested control of the flames from him and now he was immolating, his gray-orange hair burning off his head, his robes turning to cinders. 

“Raven!” she heard Aoife cry, but her voice sounded faint and distant. 

The fire didn’t hurt Raven at all. It barely even felt hot as it whipped around her feet, driven away from her skirt as if by some force. Her father’s screaming had long since gone silent, and his body collapsed at her feet, charred to a crisp. 

“Raven,” Aoife whimpered. She hadn’t moved from where she’d been standing at the beginning of the fight. “How have you done this?”

“Me,” a voice said, and Raven knew without looking that Glasya had appeared behind her.

“So these are the lengths you’ll go to,” Aoife spat, looking Glasya up and down. “Making pacts with fiends for magic. Why do you still let him control your life?”

“That’s the thing, Eef. He doesn’t anymore, and he never will again,” Raven said smugly. 

“Get out,” Aoife ordered. “Get out of my house.”

“Do you want me to help you kill her too?” Glasya asked.

“No.” Raven shook her head. “I’ll deal with her on my own terms. When I’m ready.” And then she was gone.


End file.
